Love in Four Songs
by Nikaeleen
Summary: In which, our character brings to life four songs by Taylor Swift. Regular updates
1. PART ONE

**PART ONE**

TEARDROPS ON MY GUITAR

Based on the same title song by Taylor Swift.


	2. 1-1

You know that moment when you wake up, but you're still not awake?

That moment when you have no worries, when all you see is bright whiteness, the warming rays of it circling you comfortably?

And do you know what it feels like to regain consciousness, falling heavily from that blissful cloud?

I know it quite well...

Slowly opening one eye, I take in the sun's rays that have woken me up. A thin streak of light is cleverly blinding me.

Huffing, I shuffle under my sheets, rolling to the other side, wishing I could escape the day. However, common sense and duty overcome me, as I peek at my bedside clock and decide it's time to get up. I throw my sheets carelessly, leaving the safe haven provided by my bed.

I make it to my bathroom, my gaze scanning my face in the mirror that hangs over the sink to my left. What I see is what I expected; not that being waiting for it makes me feel better. My eyes are slightly puffy and still a bit red from the crying I did last night. My heart still aches, heavy.

I look around in my make-up box for something -anything- to make me seem at least presentable.

The morning routine done, I skip down the steps to the ground floor. The door to my right leads to the kitchen and there's where I am heading.

As per usual, my mum is humming 'No Woman No Cry', as she prepares a sandwich for my little sister.

"G' morning," I say, yawning.

"Good rising, sunshine," she grins, her green tunic flowing merrily as she turns to greet me. From the window behind her, the morning light is firing her auburn mane up, which complements her natural gleam.

I manage to stretch a small, but felt, smile.

Then, while cutting off the crust and wrapping up the food, she goes on about how I shouldn't forget to pick my sister up and how she, herself, is starting a new project today. It seems that the gallery requires 20 pieces minimum for her to exhibit. I smile to myself, typically mum.

As she continues on with her babble, I prepare myself some Cheerios. However, her last remark makes me grip on the spoon too hard, the cereal instantly falling into the bowl.

"I saw Drew the other day at the shopping avenue. He helped me out with loading the bricks onto my truck." She paused, probably thinking of how nice of a boy he is. That is, if I can interpret smiles correctly. "Such a shame he is now busy with practice, he was a nice boy to have around."

Mentally, I feel like beating my mum, but she doesn't know, how could she?

That's why I decide to go for a "yes, it's a shame."

She must not have noticed my beat-up tone, because she exclaims that if I don't hurry up, I'll be late.

Already exhausted, I leave my cereal uneaten and head again for my bathroom to brush my teeth. Somehow I get toothpaste on my black rimmed spectacles. Just wonderful. How many times has it been this month?

Sighing, I hastily clean them up, leave the bathroom, pick up my schoolbag and get out of the house.

The front yard is my mother's biggest masterpiece, mainly because it took her years to master the art of being a gardener. The light-grey path serpents down the yard to the sidewalk, colourful blurs of countless flowers framing it.

Near the white-painted, wooden fence stands a small tree, my tree. Originally it was double-based, two main branches erupting from the ground. Mother had let one of the main branches be cut and then she had shaped it to a small incrusted bench, my bench. I was sitting there when I met him...

Reminding myself of Drew, I glance to my side, checking up if he is still there. As I don't spot his brown jeep, I let out a relieved breath.

However, my good mood is abruptly ruined. My hand is already on the knob, when I hear his voice.

"Mara!"

I turn to see him a few feet away from me, a sweet smile on his face.

Pushing my glasses up, I can't help but smile back with a hamper in my heart.

"Drew," I greet hopefully sounding nonchalant.

As he approaches, I can see an embarrassed sparkle in his beautiful eyes, in those hazel-tainted mirrors of his soul that carry this deepness and caring feelings that always evolve me in a pleasant bubble. I hold in the urge of sighing out of bliss.

"Hey," he breathes out when he is only a few feet away. I hold a lungful of air. "I am sorry to ask you so short of notice... I tried to call you yesterday, but you didn't answer your cell... My car is by Old Joe's; that old thing is refusing to work... Can you, can you give me a ride?"

A hand grips my heart, squeezing it tightly, and guilt heaves it further down. His words not only pierce my conscience but remind me of last night, of the reason I refused to answer his call.

To make up for my bad action, I hear myself voicing out, "Sure."

The embarrassed glint disappears and is replaced by a genuine beam that lights up my little world.

"Thanks," he grins.

With a smile still plastered on my lips, I hop in the driver's seat. While I fasten the seatbelt, Drew straightens himself.

Sensing my eyes on him, he turns around and smiles. "Thank you, again."

My mumbled "no problem" is not heard, for it is overpowered by the starting of the engine.

"Really, thank you," he begins. "You saved my life."

He pauses and inhales. I sense a little explanation rant coming up. "Mark said he had to drive his little sister to school, but it's obvious that he is picking up Hanna. To get some alone time..." A 'if you know what I mean' is dying to follow that sentence, but neither he nor I say anything, remaining silently grinning.

Never have I been so glad that we live only a ten-minute ride away from our school. Seriously, I am almost whooping, and I don't even do that on any basis.

Is it, though, understandable that I wish that we won't part? That my heart, even if broken, is filled only because of his presence? That I feel like the luckiest girl alive, only by sharing the same car with him?

However, this joy is toxically disturbed by my conscience, my thoughts and knowledge of his feelings. And what hurts the most is that he has yet to speak to me about it and it pains to know that I am not trusted like I used to be.

"Mara!" Emma's voice shrills, shaking me off my thoughts.

"What?" I retort languidly, still not really back on earth.

While I was doing the little thinking-about-my-feelings, I had somehow gotten out of my car, said goodbye to Drew, slalomed through the cheerful and energised crowd (please do note the sarcasm) and made it to my locker on the first floor.

Funny how your body still works without you having to order it around. Makes me wonder if...

"Emma to Mara. CRRRR. Emma to Mara. CRRRR." She attempts to act out a walkie-talkie conversation. "CRRRR. Can you hear me? CRRRR. Roger."

A small giggle escapes my lips. This is one of the reasons I love my best friend; she is capable of doubling me in laughter, even if I am on the verge of crying the daylights out of myself. As I am now.

My lip quivers slightly at the reminder, but it's enough for Emma to notice.

"Oh, honey," she hugs me. "It's going to be alright. You know the saying..." she smiles at me, encouraging me to say it.

"I don't know, Emma." I confess. Not that I don't know the saying. I am just not sure, if it's really going to be fine.

She huffs. "Alright, if you don't say it, I will. 'Everything will be alright in the end. If it's not alright, it's not the end.'" She beams, her plucked eyebrows up as if she is waiting for me to merrily agree with her.

Which I don't. "Emma," I try to reason her. "It's not that easy."

The happy glint that is always present in her green irises falters. "I know, sweetie. But you will make it, I know you will." Her words are spoken whole-heartedly, her eyes wide open, as if she has nothing to hide.

Suddenly her eyes grow bigger and her copper locks sway erratically, as Emma sees someone she recognizes, which makes her cover her face by applying a small scowl. "Speaking of the devil," she lets out, while she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

I don't need to turn around to know who she is referring to, but I eye him anyway.

Drew looks at me and I fake a smile, so he won't see what he does to me.


	3. 1-2

Before lunch, I have the only class I share with Drew: Chemistry.

Mrs Bradman is rambling about the next assignment we have to do and I absently-minded take a few notes.

I quickly squint to my side. _Why is Drew looking at me_?

I can feel his quick glances being aimed at me, uneasiness dripping from each inch of his gaze.

I peek back just to see his features morph from insecurity to decisiveness, as he stares at his notebook. He grips his ballpoint pen a little tighter and, after ripping a piece of a paper, starts madly scribbling down. I notice a few strands of his chocolate-brown hair falling onto his eyes.

 _What is he doing_? I feel my eyebrows knit themselves together.

I don't wind on about this thought longer; instead, I try to concentrate on my teacher's words.

Before I can hear more than a 'be careful with...', someone pokes my arm. Drew reaches from the nearby stool the small piece of paper that he had ripped off of his notebook, handing it to me.

Unfolding it, my stomach drops ever so slightly. I force myself to raise an eyebrow and to stretch a smile on my lips. With that little cover-up, I glance at Drew.

His eyebrows are held up, questioning. As an answer, I make my smile grow wider, signalling that I am up to it.

In return, he flashes one of his most flawless, hearted smiles.

Time seems to have stopped while we grin at each other, a bittersweet aura surrounding us, the affecting waves of it enveloping us, separating us from the outside.

Abruptly, the boisterous commotion pokes our little bubble and, as a balloon, its content blows out, rapidly.

Drew passes a tanned hand through his already too-long hair and averts his gaze, eyeing the worksheet, finally conscious of his task.

I, on the other hand, eye the note again, my thoughts whirling on and on, uneasy and hurt...

« _I need to talk to you. Today, after school. Give me a ride?_ »

Closing my locker, I sigh. I sincerely hoped that by renewing the air in me, my mood could be mended. But it takes more than a few breaths to even think of getting it up.

"You know, you can call it off," Emma voices out, concerned. "I mean, you do really have to pick your little sister up, so you wouldn't be lying, if you told him you had plans." She offers.

"I can't, Emma." I breathe out again. "I have already promised him."

Her eyebrows knit and her eyes worried, my best friend is refraining herself of bursting out. She knows I am too weak right now to handle her truthfulness.

"Alright," she copes with it, although a bit resigned. "Be sure to call me afterwards. I wouldn't want you to-" _suffer alone_? I can only think of what she wants to say, because she doesn't end the sentence, instead she softly decrees: "Just call me."

"Sure," I unfeelingly concede, while I rearrange the strap of my backpack, placing it nearer my neck so that the chances of it falling lessen.

"See you tomorrow," I am about to turn away when Emma hugs me tightly. I am too stunned to even move and before I can react, she has already let go of me.

"Don't forget to call or consider yourself dead-meat." She whispers, streaks of mock hiding behind her attempted seriousness.

I let out a small laugh. "Thank you." _For everything_.

She winks and mentions me to go.

Outside the double doors, the poignant breeze of a pleasing autumn afternoon is already a tad too cold for the season. I seize my light jacket closer, in an attempt of keeping myself warm.

Not many steps away of my parking place, I see him in his flawless glory:

Today, he is wearing light clothing, like me. His light-coloured jeans hang loosely around his waist, covering the top of the latter is his white t-shirt. Over the top, he put a blue madras-patterned blouse, which he left opened. I faintly snigger: we had bought it together, not that long ago.

He is leaning against the hood, his bare, slightly tanned arms crossed over his chest, probably in an attempt to keep himself warm.

My eyes travel further up. He isn't yet aware that I am observing him, for his head is turned to the side. Those caring eyes of his are concentrated on whatever is occurring on the parking lot. I smile. His capability of being solely focused on one person amazes me. No one had ever been so attentive towards myself, had ever held intensely their gazes on me. No one had ever the time to appreciate me.

And that's what I love about his eyes: they are a mirror of his soul, a reflection of what he truly is and he truthfully is caring and observant. What's more: he shows me those qualities and for that I am more than grateful.

A dim movement catches my attention, as my eyes fall onto his lips. I cannot tell how many times I have seen the corners of his mouth curled up. It is as if all the joy in the world is engrossed in him.

Ah, but it doesn't mean he hasn't cried! He has and I witnessed it, even aided him: whenever his tears caressed his cheeks, I would wipe them. Whenever his heart was broken, I would be there to help him mend it: together we would put the pieces together and soon happiness would come out of his every pore.

He trusted me to support him and I cannot tell how it pleases me that he is not afraid of me seeing him vulnerable.

His hand travels to his hair, attempting to get it off his eyes. My gaze lingers on his chocolate-brown strands, capturing its beauty. They reflect the warm, orange-coloured rays of the setting sun with a silky honey-shaded tonality resembling a sweet halo.

For a second, as Drew turn his head to me, I am blinded by its shine.

"Mara," he greets, liquid happiness dripping from his syllables, as he curls his lips into his dazing smile.

Grinning too, I take the remaining steps to my car, crossing the road, my gaze locked with his.

Suddenly, a shrilling honk is heard. I look to my side, my eyes opened wide, to see a white car a few feet away from me. "Hey, airhead!" Some guy shouts from the window. "Watch your step!"

Nodding, but still in shock, I hurriedly reach my car. I am still fussed about what just happened. How could I not have seen it? I am normally very careful, since...

"Hey, are you alright?" Drew puts his arm around my shoulders, drawing me closer. He lowers his head to my level, his pupils carefully observing my face, looking for any odd sign.

I hold my breath and mutter a distracted "yes". How can I concentrate, when he is so close to me?

He must have thought my reaction to be amusing because he starts laughing.

As his melodious laugh is contagious, I can't help but giggle too.

My shock subsided, I think about why I didn't see the car coming. Eyeing at a chuckling Drew, it all makes sense. I laugh harder because it's damn funny how I can't even see anyone when he's with me.

The sound dies down and we're left breathing in. I cock my head to the side, mentioning him to enter the car.

After I start the engine, I tell him, while I look to either side, checking up if I can move on: "We have to stop by Marie's school first. Mum told I have to pick her up, today."

"It's alright." He settles kindly. "It's been awhile since I saw her. How is she?"

I act out an affectionate snort. "A pest, but what can else you expect from an eight-year-old?"

To my remark he chuckles. _God, I love his laugh_.

Not even five minutes later, I stop at the front of Saint Anne's Primary School for Girls. I spot my sister at the front door, her auburn locks tied in two ponytails. As I watch her mane fire up, much like mother's, I tug at my own black hair, pinning some strands behind my ear, careful not to mess up with my glasses.

While I am lost in thoughts, my sister skips the stone steps and makes hastily her way to the car.

With some effort, she manages to enter the vehicle. Drew had eyed me while she was struggling with the door, but I only shook my head. My sister was at the age where she wanted to do things by herself and helping her would only cause her to be angry. And mad eight-year-old girls are not that fun to be around, take it from me.

After she fastens herself in, I glance at her through the rear-view mirror. "Hey, Marie. How was school?"

She crosses her arms, annoyed. "Fine."

I stifle a laugh. I know she is trying to act older, mimicking some star of a Disney show she loves to watch.

I notice Drew is too controlling himself, as I peek at either side before I join the traffic.

"Well, hello there, Marie." He smoothly greets her.

Astonishment breaks her façade and her eyes light up. "Drew?!" She half-sings.

"The one and only." He jokes.

Their conversation fades into background noise, as I fully concentrate on the driving. The small journey is only prolonged by 4 minutes, compared to the one of this morning. Only that now, I don't feel like whooping at the end of it. Seeing my sister and Drew having fun, I cannot be happier. Though, something does seem odd; there's something about him I knew that made my heart break. I dimly frown, fumbling through my memories.

Before I can put my finger on it, we arrive. I hardly am near of turning off the engine and Marie is already near the passenger door, waiting for Drew to come out. I roll my eyes, _seriously, that girl_...

Seeing as he is so calm about it, how he takes his time to listen to her ramblings, I fall into him a little deeper.

Getting my backpack from the backseat, I look for my keys. Passing my hands through my jeans' pockets, I notice a small bump. Too small for it to be the keys, I note. Nevertheless, curiosity makes me pull out a small piece of paper.

« _I need to talk to you. Today, after school. Give me a ride?_ », it reads and I am suddenly reminded.

It dawns all on me, digging a hole in my shattered heart.

Pushing the realization away, I finally find the keys. "Come on, Marie." One can hear the tiredness in my voice. "You surely have some homework to do."

Her expression reads 'party-pooper' and she even offers a small pout.

"Don't worry, you can come to my house anytime you want." Drew appeases her sweetly.

She grins broadly, showing off her missing tooth. "Thanks, big bro." She hugs him rapidly and then follows me to the house.

After I opened the door for her, I eye Drew, who is still standing beside my car. I show him my hand, my fingers held apart from each other. _Five minutes_ , I mouth. He nods and I enter the house I call home.

"Mara!" That little pest doesn't rest, does she? "I'm hungry!" She is currently in the kitchen, her bag on the floor.

I pick it up and put it and my own bag on the small light-wooden table, where we normally have our meals.

"Alright, what do you want to eat?" I rummage through the cupboards.

From the corner of my eyes I see her hopping as she chirps: "Oreo's, Oreo's!"

 _Now where are those delicious cookies?_

 _Aha, there they are_! I take a small package of the box and lay it next to the bag.

I pull out a stool from under the table and Marie soon takes a seat.

From another cupboard, I get a cup, which I soon fill with milk.

"Here you go, kiddo." I hand it to her.

"I am not a kid." She huffs.

"Sure, Marie." I mess up with her hair and grab the keys I left near my backpack.

 _Isn't her pout adorable_?

"Mum will be home in few," I tell her as I grab some skittles from the storeroom; they're Drew's favourite sweets. "See ya later, little pest." I playfully say.

As an answer, she sticks her little tongue out.

I laugh loudly as open the door and close it behind me.

 _If only I could see this every day_ , I dream wistfully to myself.

Right in front of me, under our tree, is Drew, his gleaming hazel eyes wide open, expectant, watching the door.

How pleasant it is to be waited for, especially if the person waiting is such a flawless guy.

Still dazed, I make my way to my mother's masterpiece and smile shyly up to him.

"Hey," I breathe out.

We both open our mouths to talk and close them simultaneously.

"You go..." We tell each other in unison.

Cocking my head to the side, I encourage him to go on.

For a second, he is motionless. Then, soundlessly points to the bench, mentioning us to sit down. So we do.

After we got accustomed to the now too small wooden seats, he speaks the words I always dreaded to hear: his confession of love for another person.

"I am in love," he bluntly states. "This time I got it right, I know it. I finally got it right..." As he keeps talking, a warm, cosy and adorable tone is more and more noticeable.

I wonder if that's how I sound like when I talk about him: so madly lost in my own world, a pleasant expression on my face, irises shining mysteriously like only I hold the secret to happiness and I won't share it.

Once he is done with his confession, he eyes me and I smile. I think I say something about being happy for him and how I bet he is right.

I cannot tell for sure what my mouth words out, I cannot tell for sure what I am doing. As he keeps talking about his love, I silently fall into myself. I can feel myself tumbling into the deepest part of my soul: a part I am not sure existed before, a part that freezes me, slices me, and rips me apart. Because, even though he obviously dated before, never had I seen his eyes so bright, his soul so gleaming, his aura so pure and full of joy, never had I seen him in love. And now that I do, it makes me both happy and sad. Happy, because he found her, he found someone worthwhile; sad, because that girl isn't me.

I try to shove the more predominant feelings of heartbreak away, try to show him how happy I am for him...


	4. 1-3

I had managed to keep a smile on my face throughout the whole conversation. It was only when I reached my room that the suppressed feelings broke the barriers I had built, tears falling uncontrollably down my face.

Here I am, about half an hour later, my guitar resting in my lap. I'm still not confident enough to play; instead, I plug randomly at a string. My eyes have yet to dry, droplets making way down my cheeks into the wooden body of the instrument.

He is the reason for the teardrops on my guitar. He is the reason why I feel so miserable right now. And I hate it, hate it.

But I love him. A lot. And it hurts. It clenches my heart in a tight grip that results in a panicked state.

A tempest of feelings still running in my core, tumbling myself, I sit upright, placing the curve of the guitar on my tight, and start playing. My insight is just as blurred as my vision: I cannot tell what I am playing. I just know that it eases the uproar in my chest, appeasing the stormy emotions to a calm numbness.

After coming up with a few melodies, I am able to say that the storm is over. However, it'll be long before the streets are clean, before the walls are rebuilt, therefore, I let my finger slowly trace the neck of the instrument.

Without meaning it, I start playing the song I composed when I met him. It was short but sweet, just like our first encounter...

I was sitting under the tree, enjoying the shadow of it, with Twilight clutched in my hands. I have no idea why I loved the books so much, I guess I longed for someone like Edward. Now that I think about it, I was so foolish. Why would I want to be in a relationship with a character that had a personality as deep as a puddle?

Anyway, I was sitting under the tree, enjoying the shadow and reading the goddamn book - as I have mentioned -, when a heard a voice to my left.

"What are you reading?" The boy was leaning on the fence mum had put up a couple of days ago. It still missed the white painting, but mum had yet to come down to buying the paint.

I remember that I clutched the book tight, embarrassed for some reason. I think it might have to do with my thinking of it to be too personal like it was telling my life and I wanted to keep it secret. God, was I foolish.

"Nothing," I answered, carefully controlling every emotion. Before he could ask more, I questioned: "Who are you?"

He smiled and I guess it was then that I lost myself to him. "I'm Drew." He tilted his head to the right. "What about you? What's your name?"

Forgetting all about Edward and Twilight, I beamed at him. "I'm Mara."

I open my eyes and I am back to the present again. The small melody I have been playing as I replayed the memory in my mind comes to its end. However, it's not long before another one follows. I composed many songs about Drew.

Why can he not tell? I grasp my guitar tightly causing it to let out an atrocious sound. Soon, I come to the conclusion that even if he did, he now found another and could care less about how I feel. I know it's a lie, he'll care, if only he knows...

I shove the thought away while I play another song. This one I composed the day we went to the fair. I had a blast on that day. Well, part of it anyway.

Anyway, I was fourteen back then and it was one of the hottest days of June ever. Mum had convinced me to wear a dress and I had let my hair get braided.

His parents joined my mother and Marie. In the meantime, Drew and I were let to wander alone through the enormous extension.

I remember how he laughed at my obvious fear and discomfort as we were riding the roller coaster. Later, when we left the godforsaken ride and I could stand properly on my legs again, he told me how funny it was that I had been too terrified to even scream. I didn't think it to be even amusing and, if I wasn't so shaken up, I would've smacked him.

Drew then put an arm around my shoulders and took me to one of those booths where you have to pop ten balloons with the darts they give you. "Come on, I'll win you something to make up for it."

I smiled at him and watched as he skilfully popped the ten balloons. A smile of victory flashed in his face after he hit the last one and then he turned to me. "Pick one."

My eyes travelled through the whole stand, searching through the countless soft toys and trying to choose one. Then I spotted a small tiger hid between two enormous bunnies. I pointed at it.

The young man behind the stand must've misunderstood because he went for one of the bunnies.

Shaking my head, I told him: "I want the tiger, please, not the bunny."

A hint of surprise flickered through his features before a small smile played on his lips. "Alright."

With Rican, my soft toy tiger, in my hands, I looked at Drew, beaming. "Thank you."

He smiled caringly at me and then, taking my arm, nudged me in the direction of the Ferris wheel.

Once inside of a cart, we talked and laughed, joking about our classmates, about random situations and about ourselves. As we fell silent for a while, I noticed that we had reached the top. Then, I spotted a star crossing the sky and I closed my eyes, making a wish. I smiled to myself and I thought my wish had been granted, when he spoke.

"Look," he started unsure of himself. I was taken slight aback, insecurity wasn't part of Drew's character. "I have something to tell you."

Butterflies flew in my stomach and, as I was fool, I was head over heels, imagining what he was about to say and enjoying every bit of my fantasies, which were shattered almost the next instant.

"You know Rita?" He asked.

I sensed something was off, he wasn't supposed to be talking about another girl. How foolish I was. "The transfer student?" I supplied.

He nodded, then proceeded. "I asked her out today," he smiled shyly looking everywhere but at me.

My heart clenched and I was darn glad he wasn't eyeing my way because I was almost sure one could see the hurt in my features. Since when did he have an interest in her? I hadn't known anything about it until that moment. I tried to make my voice sound as friendly as possible, "What did she say?"

Still staring at the grey floor, he told me. "She said yes."

"Really?" I forced some more enthusiasm into my voice. "That's great!"

And that's how Drew's love-life and my friend-zone began, I think sourly as I look at the starry sky.

Eyeing now my guitar, I think of how this is one of the first songs about Drew that I never finished, because, as younger me, I didn't have the strength to bear the pain of heartache and to weave that feeling into a song was beyond my power back then. I could've finished the song later, I can finish it now, but I have learnt that what happens in the past cannot be undone, so I won't finish it.

My eyes are once again glued to the white-specked firmament and, as I spot a wishing star, I find myself wording mentally that same prayer I did all those years ago. He was and is the only thing that keeps me wishing on a wishing star.


	5. 1-4

I can't seem to stop thinking about him, no matter how hard I try and that is really despicable. I mean, he is just a boy, why does he have to be the centre of my life?

Because I am insanely in love with him and he doesn't even have a clue.

 _Idiot_ , I scold at myself, _stop being such a whiny little self-pithier_.

 _Then stop being in love with him!_ I retort, angered at myself.

 _We both know that isn't easy_ , my conscience replies.

Sighing, I shake my head.

Am I that desperate that I even feel the need to scold at myself, the need to talk myself out of this one-sided love?

"Mara Greenwood," Mrs. Bradman raises her voice, authority leaking out of every word, calling me out of my internal battle, "can you please repeat what Drew just said?"

 _That he loves another? That he thinks this time it is for real? That in no way may I be more than just a friend?_ He never said that, but I think it's a bit obvious...

"I'm sorry, ma'am," I apologise, embarrassed to have been caught distracted. As I feel the eyes of my classmates on me, I sense their surprise. _Mara, the top-student, was distracted? What's coming next? Aliens_?

I sincerely don't know what they're thinking, but that must be it. I mean, the brown hair dude's eyes - I think his name is Cameron - are almost falling off his face. What is so shocking about me not knowing what he said?

Yes, I am not really in a good mood.

"Drew, if you would be so kind to repeat it," Mrs. Bradman's voice is smooth as she addresses the boy, however her eyes are fixed pointedly on me, a hint of disappointment hidden behind the hardness.

"Yes, ma'am." He nods and proceeds to repeat whatever he has said before. His efforts are useless; I am not able to hear a thing, because my thoughts are again whirling around the problem that my shattered heart is.

Frustrated that I have not come up with a solution, I leave the room, right after the bell has rung.

"Mara!" Drew calls me from behind me and I turn around to see him rushing my way.

 _Please, go away, don't do this to me_ , I beg mentally.

His hazel eyes catch mine and I see worry in them. _Please, stop_. "Are you okay?"

 _No, I'm not okay. My heart is broken and you're the one to blame. I can't make you love me like I love you. I can't make you see the tears I shed for you, because even if you hurt me, I can't see myself doing the same, I can't make you cry. I don't want to. I never will. But I am hurt, ripped apart because you can't even tell_ , whirls around in my mind.

However, I settle for an 'I'm fine' and an attempted smile.

He hesitates. "Are you sure?"

 _Please, stop being kind. Stop being yourself. I don't want to love you. Please._

I force my grin to stretch wider. "Yeah."

Satisfied with my answer, Drew rests his arm around my shoulder. "Let's go eat something."

On our way to the infamous school canteen, he goes on and on about his practices and, of course, about _her_. I try to sound as friendly and comfortable with the situation as possible, as I ask a few questions here and there.

I am too caught up in our conversation that I'm unaware of my movements. It's only when I land on the seat next to a teammate of his that I sober up. _I am sitting on the football team's table_ , crosses my mind in a shocked, slow pace. Never before have I even thought of sharing lunch time with his friends. Even if we are sort of best friends, he has his group and I have Emma. It's always like that.

I push my glasses up and my hand passes through my hair, while I bite my lip; I feel so out of place. _Just keep your eyes on the food, Mara_ , I command myself.

"So, Drew," the boy next to me speaks up, "is this the gorgeous one you keep talking about?"

Through my lashes, I peek at Drew; he's seated across me. I see his cheeks flush up, his gaze suddenly finding the trail in front of him very interesting, and decide to answer for him.

My eyes land, unsharpened, on his teammate and I straighten up in my seat, feigning confidence I obviously don't possess. Attempting a laugh, I tell him. "No, I'm only his friend." I sense a bit of hurt in my response.

Oblivious to it, the blonde next to me curls his lips into a cocky grin. I recognize him as the quarterback of our school's team, Jack Lenning. He's the school's precious star and a ladies' man left and right. Who wouldn't be with those looks? His shaggy dirty blond hair is kept in an attractive mess, his dark green eyes peeking from under his bangs. Beneath his strong nose, lie voluptuous lips, which he is very known for. Add it to a remarkably well worked-out body and you have Jack Lenning.

Leaning towards me, he whispers quite loudly. "He won't mind then, if I take you to a secluded corner?"

"Jack," Drew scolds, obvious anger present in his tone, "get a grip. She's not a game for you to play."

Jack doesn't even spare a glance at his teammate. "She can answer for herself," he replies, self-assured. Then, with a smoother tone, he asks me. "What's your name, beautiful?"

I stifle a shocked and sceptical snort, but reply anyway. "Mara."

I reckon that if I say no more, he will leave me alone. I don't need another boy bothering me, especially as I am still trying to puzzle my heart into a whole.

Jack doesn't seem to get the hint, as he leans even closer. "So, what do you say, Mar? Do you want to fool around?"

Heaving a sigh, I am getting annoyed. _How dare he tease me, when I am broken to pieces_? "The name's Mara and the answer's no," I don't even try to keep my bad mood from leaking out.

Resting his arm on the back of my chair, his mouth halts less than an inch away from my ear. His hot breath graces my skin, as he seductively whispers. "You don't know what you're missing out on."

Furrowing my eyebrows, I decide that I had enough of the males' BS. _Why can't he get the hint? Why can't Drew see that I am head over heels for him? Why are they all blind and incomprehensive and why do we, girls, have to go through heartbreaks, when it's not even our fault that they can't see what they do to us_?

Lashing it all out on him, I retort. "I guess I have a clue what I am missing. I mean, whenever I go to the bathroom, there's always some sharing how 'wonderful' and 'sinful' your lips taste. But you know what? I am not impressed." Getting up, I pick up my trail and before I turn on my heels, I tell both him and Drew. "I've had enough!"

I let my eyes furiously take in the whole room, ignoring my schoolmate's pointed stares. I am looking for someone and when I spot her copper locks, I free a sigh, walking towards her lone form.

Emma looks up from her phone, as she hears me lay my trail on the table and sit down.

Her green eyes show me her hurt. "Now you decide to join me," she quibbles.

"I am sorry, Ems. I was dragged into it," I tell her, defeated. I am not looking for discussions, I don't know if I will be able to control myself.

Huffing, she puts her Samsung Galaxy in the pocket of her jeans. After a tense moment, she quires. "Drew?"

Sighing once more, I assent. "Yeah."

Mimicking my motion, she wants to know. "What happened yesterday? I told you to call me." Again, hurt is present in her voice.

Keeping my eyes on the uneaten pasta, I murmur. "I'm sorry, Ems."

She lets out a tired chuckle. "That's what you keep saying. Now tell me, what happened yesterday?"

Relieved that she isn't angry at me anymore, I look up to those worried green irises and tell her about his new-found love. How says he is so in love. That he's finally got it right.

In the meantime, I try not to cry, pressing my emotions down.

Sensing my efforts, Emma grabs my hand and proposes. "Let's get out of here."

Nodding, I let go of her and dispose my trail on the respective wagon. _What a waste of money and food_ , I think as I eye the full plate.

Sighing, I join Emma, who has been waiting for me, and we exit the infamous school canteen. With our arms enlaced, we climb onto the last floor, heading to a hidden corridor we found years ago, as freshmen. We are lucky no couple has ventured this far, but who in their sane minds would to make out on the same floor where the headmistress' office is?

No one. That's why this room-less, inconspicuous and sunlit corridor is only visited by us two. It's our secret spot. Not even Drew knows about this.

I am so close to shed my tears, as I sit down against the wall, right beneath the sole window of this hall. I wish for Emma to distract me from my pains and so she does.

Talking about rumours, celeb gossip and whatnot, Emma is able to drift my attention from my broken heart and bad mood to whatever silliness someone did.

We are making our way to class when she mentions prom. I cringe automatically at that word. It's not like I have bad memories of the school event. It's just that every time there was a dance, Drew would take his current girlfriend and I couldn't go, because I was not able to take in the sight of him with another.

Emma notices my apprehension, but she too isn't in a smooth mood. "C'mon, Mara. It's the last chance you'll have! Who cares about him?! Don't let him rule over your life!"

I am shocked, overwhelmingly and angrily countering. "But he already has! And the worst of all, he doesn't even have a clue!"

The whole Art Class stood freezing and silenced. I have said it too loudly as I entered the room and now I regret it. Glaring at the ground, I slalom towards my seat. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_! I scold at myself.

Just my luck, the teacher isn't there. Even if Mr. Chen is cool, he is goddamn curious and I am not inclined to explain the whole thing to him, especially not in front of the class.

My head still hanging low, I take my seat and pull the material from my bag onto my table. As little by little my classmates resume to their murmuring and joking, I think of how this day cannot get any worse.

Of course, alike everyone that ever thought _that_ , my day worsens. Normally, to my right side sits no-one - Emma sits to my left -, but today someone decides to offer me some company.

"What did you mean with 'I'm not impressed'?" A low-pitched voice sounds too close for comfort, at least in my opinion.

I glance at him through the corner of my eyes and he is closer than I have suspected. His nose little inches away from my cheekbone.

I move away from him, too drained to play games. "Not now, Jack." Seeing as he makes no move, I quickly add a 'please'.

"Fine," he scoffs. "This time you get away. But don't think you got rid of me, beautiful."

I am unsure whether to throw in a bitter remark, hinting again at leave-me-alone deal, or simply exasperate. I end up doing neither, since Mr. Chen decides to finally walk in and the class starts.

After having said good-bye to Emma, I feel more than ready to get home and play my guitar. I need to bring out all the bottled emotions in me, and music's my way to do it.

Today I am eager to make my fingers blaze through the neck of my instrument; Art class was pure torture and I have been strung up since then.

Jack is purely irritating. I don't even know why he's doing Art because obviously his mind is until set on football... and girls. I will myself not to think about all the remarks he did about the female anatomy. I shiver. That was a hell of a class and I had to bite back the urge to hit him because I am pro non-violence.

However, he deserves a big smack in that infatuated head of his.

"Mara!" I recognize instantly Drew's voice. "Wait up!"

I come to a halt right in front of my car, careful not to be in the way of anyone; I don't want to be run over.

For the second time in this day, I see him rush his way towards myself, mixed emotions erupting in my chest.

"Drew," I acknowledge him when he is close enough.

"I'm sorry about lunch, I-" He starts, regretful.

I cut him in, not wanting to discuss the matter further. "It's alright," I soothe him and prepare to leave.

He frowns ever so faintly. "Wait! There was a reason why I wanted to eat with you," he confesses.

I oblige myself to listen and I mention him to go on.

"I wanted to...," he starts, but then thinks about it and drops the sentence. "Well, forget it."

I am starting to feel more and more tired of it all. I just want to be home and rest, play and rest.

"Drew, if that's all you wanted...," I turn away towards the driver's door.

"Mara," he calls again. "Are you going to prom?"

My world freezes and for a moment no thoughts cross my mind. Then all my emotions and thoughts, including suspicions, tumble into me, leaving confused and overwhelmed for a while.

 _Drew is asking you out for prom_! The hopeful part of me exclaims.

 _Are you stupid? He loves another. This smells fishy, Mara_. My suspicious self is sceptical.

 _Why does he want to know_? The unsure side of me demands.

Pulling a leash over all the other possibilities and emotions, I decide to go for the truth. "I am not planning on."

I look at Drew through my lashes, over my specs. He seems a bit disappointed and in a way angry at himself.

"That's too bad," he tells me. "I wanted you to meet Jess."

"Oh," I let out, my shattered heart being almost slammed into dust. "That's too bad," I hear myself say.

"Yeah," he affirms uncomfortable with the situation before him. "See ya, Mara."

"Bye," I reply automatically.

 _I told you so_ , my suspicious self states harshly.

 _Shut up_ , I retort, as I buckle in and start the engine.

I cannot wait to get my guitar, so I start singing. The effect is the same, probably the singing is more effective because it's my own chords that are working, not ones of some instrument. The act of chanting is most certainly more personal than the one of playing guitar; if I fail a note I cannot blame my fingers, nor the instrument, it's my fault, because I _am_ the instrument.

That's why it's more effective because all my emotions don't have to be canalized into the wood of the guitar, my voice comes out already drenched in them.

I start off humming all the melodies I have composed for him, savouring each note and simultaneously letting go of my unwanted emotions.

Suddenly I begin adding words and I only remember one stanza completely, because it somehow imprinted in my mind.

"I'll bet she's beautiful

That girl he talks about

And she's got everything

That I have to live without"

I keep repeating those words for a while, hating how true they are. However, they do help me cleanse my soul, so I continue chanting them.

At one point, right before turning to my street, I am too run over by emotions that I have to pull up to the side to shed my tears, who leave me like an agonising waterfall.

Before I am in control of myself again, a conclusion crosses my mind. He's the song in the car I keep singing all the time. He's the only thing I am ever able to put into music; I love him to that extent.

 _I have to stop. Please, let me stop_ , I beg my heart. _Please_.

 _Please_...


	6. 1-5

"Are you for real?!" My best friend squeaks a pitch too high in my ear. "You're really going?"

Oh, I am so going to regret this... Resigned, I nod, not having enough confidence to answer out loud.

Emma shrieks once more, before doing what she likes to call a happy dance. She's not a bad dancer, but as soon as she uses her arms she looks more like a hen than anything else.

I stay very still and wait for her to stop the whole act. Works all the time.

Suddenly, she dropped dead in her tracks. See, I told you remaining frozen works.

"Oh my chubby buns!" She squeals as her attention drifts once more towards me. My eyebrow drops at her cry, what the hell are chubby buns? Before I can question her about it, she tells me sternly: "We have to go shopping!"

 _Oh no._

 _Oh no, no, no, no._ _Nope. No._

 _I refuse. I will not._

 _Not even in a million years._

"Mara, this is important! You cannot just dive into your mother's wardrobe and rescue some vintage dress," Emma is mortified by the whole idea of it.

Damn! Just when I had a solution that didn't involve malls and little stores... Why does my friend have to know me so well?

However, I will not cave in this time. I can still recall the last time I went shopping with her and the whole experience has let some deep marks within me... I will spare you the details.

"What is so wrong with doing that?" I counter.

Emma sighs, raising a hand to her hair. She's telling me through motions that she feels sorry for my ignorance, that's if I can understand gestures right.

With a sweet voice, as if she is talking to a child, Emma explains to me. "Honey," she puts dramatically a hand on my shoulder, inching towards me and looking me straight in the eyes. "You cannot simply go to prom with a dress ripped out of the eighties. Even if vintage is in, it's the new vintage, not the from-the-wardrobe-gotten one, you see?" Her green eyes have rounded up, as she glances me questioningly.

Weighting up the pros and cons in my head, I decide to comply with her _capriccio_. It's either that or a whole week of arguing that will leave us both bitter and I really hate to be sour, it's even worse than shopping.

"Fine," I retort.

Emma is beyond happy and I find myself once again eye her as she does her dance.

"Who let the chicken out?" Someone calls out loudly from the other side of the full corridor. On rainy days like today, it is impossible to walk through the halls, because it is so packed inside. The full corridors also mean that one has to scream if one wants to be heard, hence some bystanders shifting their attentions to the boy, but they quickly resume their conversations.

"Simon," Emma's voice darkens as she recognizes her nemesis, or so she calls him. Here between us, she likes his teasing as much as he likes her, which is a lot.

He is surrounded by his friends, leaning on a locker on the other side of the corridor. His black hair falls to barely above his equally dark eyes. Even though his outfit is anything but black and spiky, he has one sweet smile reserved for my best friend.

"You," he gestures towards her, "me" his fingers are now pointing to himself, "prom?" He winks.

For a split second Emma is more than thrilled, she is probably thanking God for such a good day. Then, she raises an eyebrow mockingly. "Why would you want to take a chicken to prom?"

Uh, that's a good one. Mental note: don't mess with Emma lightly.

"If the chicken's you, I will take it everywhere," he admits flirtingly.

My best friend blushes and now's my turn to feel all giddy, what's best than see a friend in love, especially if said love is reciprocated?

Pretending to huff, she tells him, "Pick me up at seven."

I hide my giggle; she's too adorable.

I obviously didn't do a good job at hiding my amusement, because Emma's now shooting daggers at me. "I still hate him," she feels the need to tell me, which of course makes me laugh harder.

My best friend slowly begins to stretch a whole-hearted smile, but something makes her freeze it. Before I can look over my shoulder, where her gaze is set, she grabs my arm and drags me through the mob.

I am kicked, elbowed, stepped on and for a second crushed between bodies, before we enter the safe haven called bathroom.

"Emma..." I try to control my breathing, my body bending over in the process. "What... the hell... was that?"

I look up to see a very controlled Emma checking herself in the mirror, adjusting her hair and whatnot.

Batting her lashes, feigning innocence as she shifts her attention to me, she claims. "I just wanted to check if I am still human... With Simon, you will never know."

What? I blink, look around and blink again, setting my gaze on her. I know something's up, but for now I will let it slide. That's why I settle for a "You're weird".

"Sure I am, why else would I be your friend?" Emma's in her joking mode again, I sigh.

"Funny," I comment dryly and turn around to leave the bathroom.

Emma soon joins me and keeps babbling about prom and dresses. I am not really listening to her, because my head is occupied with the prospect of going shopping. I shudder.

Suddenly I bump against someone.

"... perfect prom dress for you, don't you think?" Emma questions me, but all I can see are dark green eyes.

"Hello, beautiful."

Jack Lenning.

Blinking a couple of times, I try to figure a way out of this conversation I am so sure I don't want to have. Whatever makes them girls fall for him must only be his looks, because he's a pain in the ass. Two weeks of having him bothering me in Art class prove it.

"Jack," I do a small reverence and prepare myself to leave; it's the best way to escape.

Further steps ahead, Emma stops to look for me and as her eyes land on me, she calls me. "Mara?"

I intend to join her, but a hand keeps me in place. _Jack_.

"Wait." He begs.

I pointedly look at him; I don't want anything to do with the opposite gender before my heart is fully mended. I'm still not sure I am over Drew...

Taking his hand off me, he eyes me sheepishly, seeming somewhat uncomfortable. Jack Lenning lacking of confidence? Well, that's new.

Finally, he talks. "So you're going to prom?"

 _Why does he want to know?_ I think as I answer matter-of-factly. "Yes."

Seeing as he says no more, I attempt to leave again, but his question stops me from taking more than a step.

"Wanna go with me?"

Like echo, those four words played with my mind. Is he being truthful? There's only a way to know...

I rise up my eyes to his and I don't find anything that could lead me to a negative answer.

Do I even want to tell him no? Do I want to go with him? Do I believe him? Can I?

All the while my gaze keeps looking through his, trying to come to a conclusion about all this.

A shadow passes behind Jack and my attention shifts fully to the form. _As always_.

It's Drew. He is there, a few steps away. I hold my breath.

 _No Mara, don't. You promised. You said you would try! You can do it, you can stop. You are almost there!_

I force my eyes to fall back to the jock. Yes, I breathe out, confidence present now in me. I will do it. Maybe Jack may help me.

"Yes," my voice comes out shaky. Clearing my throat, I say more firmly. "Yes. Pick me up at seven. I live next to Drew."

The blonde is, at first, flabbergasted, but quickly recovers from the surprise and tries to answer clearheadedly. "I know that."

What? He knows? Is there something I am missing?

Unintentionally, my eyes are back on Drew and he has a small grin playing on his lips. Catching my gaze, his smile widens.

With little truthfulness, I curl the corners of my mouth, faking a smile, so he won't see.


	7. PART TWO

**PART TWO**

EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED

Based on the same titled Taylor Swift/Ed Sheeran's song.


	8. 2-1

p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Do you know that moment when you wake up, but you're still not awake?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"When you're caught between consciousness and the realm of sleep?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"When your mind slowly remembers who you are and what you have lived?/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"The blur of yesterday washes through me, like water released from a dam./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"I am abruptly awake, shifting to an upright position./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"My heart contracts painfully, a reaction to both the pain due to Drew and to the excitement I feel towards Jack. Suddenly, I know what I didn't know before, that I am eager to get to know him./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Then I see myself again in that crowded hall with his hand on my arm, replying 'yes'. Embarrassment shoots through my veins and I try to hide my face in my pillow with a little too much enthusiasm. emI'm a fool!/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"My nose tingling a bit from the impact, I look at the clock on my nightstand. emDarn!/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Rushing through my routine, I land on the ground floor with enough time to eat some breakfast. Even before I enter the kitchen, I hear my mum humming 'No Woman No Cry'./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""Morning," I manage keeping all the confusing emotions out of my voice, but there must be something off about it, because my mum flashes me a peculiar look./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Smiling weirdly, she tells me. "Good Morning."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"It is only when I have the cereal and milk already mixed into a bowl that she asks. "Are you going to prom?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"She really has the ability to make me drop my spoon every morning. Sheepishly, I answer. "Yes."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Her eyes light up in a way that scares me and soon my breakfast is forgotten. "Who is taking you? Do you have a dress? Do you want to buy one? Should I go with you?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""Mum", emhow? Why? I have to find a way out of this/em. I sigh and, as my eyes catch the clock above the door, an idea flashes through my head. "Would you look at the time! Gotta go. See you." Skipping up the stairs and brushing my teeth, I hasten my way out of the house./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"emspan lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"How does she know about me going to prom? Because she knows, I know it. My answer was only a confirmation. She knows. How?/span/em/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Before I reach my car, I glance at Drew's house. emHe wouldn't, would he?/em/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Shaking my head, I make my way to school./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"~^~^~^~/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Emma is waiting for me by the entrance, her copper locks occasionally lightened by a fleeting sun. Today is rather cloudy./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"She spots me in the middle of the parking lot and her features turn impatient. Does she want me to fly all the way over there? Gee, that girl./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""Why do you even have a phone?" Are her first words./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""Good morning to you, too. I am well. Yourself?" I pause for story-telling effect. "Wonderful."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"She deadpans. "Don't be cheeky. You have no reason to. If anyone has a reason to throw smart remarks here that would be me. I sent you loads of messages yesterday and I got no reply. Really, your messaging skills are horrendous."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"We are already halfway to my locker, when I take the phone of out my pocket and I stare at the screen. It is blank and I press random buttons, but nothing changes./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"With helplessness, I glance at Emma, who just offers me a scoff. "Knowing you, you probably haven't charged it in days." emOh, that's it! I completely forgot/em. "Really." Her tone is filled with laughter. "You're helpless."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"I can do nothing by silently consent./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""Well, how are you supposed to message Jack?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"emspan lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Jack? Why would I ever...?/span/emspan lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;" My raised eyebrows expressed my thoughts./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""Aren't you dating?" To my incredulous stare, she explains, "He asked you to prom!"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""I really don't see how that equals dating. You went with your cousin to prom."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"She halts her breath, outraged. "Don't you dare remind me! I still have nightmares."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"I shrug and close my locker, business done. "I don't really know what he wants of me." This is only meant to my ears, but Emma catches it./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""What happened between you and him at art yesterday?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I try to think of words good enough to express what happened in that class. Even before I start to sort out the events of yesterday, the bell rings./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""I tell you at lunch," I quickly promise, giving her a rushed hug./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"~^~^~^~/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"First period is AP Math and the teacher lets us do exercises the whole time, clearly not in the mood to teach. I finish them in no time, so that leaves me a good half-an-hour to think./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Yesterday... It was very strange. The news of Jack asking a 'nobody' to prom had travelled fast, as fast as crowded halls tended to share gossip. By lunch time, everyone knew. Too uncomfortable with the judging gazes staring at us from every seat at the cafeteria, Emma and I bought sandwiches and fled to our little corner./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""Why did you do it?" My best friend claimed the silence when we were halfway through our food. /span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Through a mouthful of the tuna and salad sandwich, I managed a sort of "what?"./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""Agree to go to prom with him." The duh was implicit./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"I gulped down my well-chewed bite and stared at the remains of food in my hands. "Drew was there."/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""Hmm," which could've meant that she understood or that she had no idea how that answered her question./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;""I want to forget him," I tried to explain./span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"She was deep in thought while chewing carefully. "Don't you think it was sudden?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"I had already finished eating and was wiping the crumbs away from my jeans, when her words stopped my motions. "That he asked me?" I wondered. "I thought so, too. And then when I told him that I live next to Drew, he said that he already knew. Weird, right?"/span/p  
p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"span lang="EN-GB" style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif;"Taking in the news rather calmly, she assented. "Weird, indeed."/span/p 


	9. 2-2

The bell woke us from our thoughts and we headed to art class.

When we entered the room, Jack was already seated in the place he had claimed for himself for the past two weeks. Two very annoying weeks, if I was being honest with myself. But instead of the dread I usually felt at the sight of him, I felt something new, a tiny palpitation.

Our eyes met and his probing smile expressed so much that I still don't understand. With our gazes locked, I took the seat next to him.

 _What should I say_?

"I thought you were avoiding me." His grimace was sheepish. "I thought you weren't coming to art."

"And skip on you annoying me for an hour?" Even to my ears, the quip sounded forced, insincere, and so was the slight stretch of lips I got from him. "I'm sorry."

Jack clearly meant to say something, but Mr. Chen chose that moment to grace us with his presence.

"Good afternoon, class," the teacher's voice owned the room. "Today we will continue sketching using the blind method, but instead of stills, we will be doing portraits. So pick a partner."

Instinctively, I turned to Emma. However, a hand on me caught both our gazes. She nodded to Jack behind me and sought someone else.

"I'm sorry." I felt the need to apologize. "I'm so used to rely on Emma for every partner-work..."

The first genuine smile lit up his features in the most boyish manner and I think I forgot to breathe for a moment.

"Gee, I'm really losing my touch," he sighed, slightly embarrassed. "I wasn't counting on you agreeing to come to prom with me."

 _Oh_. My chest heaved down painfully. "Well, if you didn't want to go with me, you shouldn't've asked."

His eyebrows shot up rather swiftly. "No, no, no, no. You've got it wrong! What I meant is I wasn't expecting you to, I thought you'd decline or something... I really haven't swept you off your feet these past weeks."

I scoffed, partly amused. "Commenting on female body parts and your experience with them really doesn't do it for me, sorry."

"You know how to punch a guy in the gut."

"I do get straight to the point, when needed."

"Now was absolutely necessary," he drawls sarcastically.

"Well, yes, Mr. Lenning, Ms. Greenwood. Now it _is_ absolutely necessary that you begin your sketches," Mr. Chen called from in front of our tables, startling the daylights out of us.

"Sorry, Mr. Chen," I automatically said and gathered all needed material. When a piece of paper, tape and a leaf of The Baywater Daily News were all on my desk, I taped one corner of the newspaper sheet to the table, placed the paper beneath it and grabbed a pencil from my case. I focused on Jack and saw that he too was ready.

Suddenly I was shy, unable to train my eyes on him. The blind sketch method requires that the artist keeps staring at an object, all the while drawing it without ever lifting the pencil. The newspaper leaf Mr. Chen gave us was to avoid the temptation of looking at the process, but if the method was done right, one didn't need it.

"Not straight to the point anymore?" His voice was tainted with enough condescendence to rattle me.

"Funny," my tone was drenched in irony but I was serious when I lifted my gaze. There was no way around it.

The best way to begin the sketch is to choose a good starting point; I settled for his jaw. _Darn_.

Fighting the pulling desire to avert my eyes, I followed the line towards the left ear, which is framed by dirty blond strands, up to his cheekbone, defined, cutting even, through his temple, trailing close to his hairline and then down again: cheekbone, ear, jaw and chin. All the while, my pencil was moving from under the newspaper. Without lifting it, I traced his lips, and breathing got harder. They weren't full, just wonderfully shaped like the work of an artist in those Renaissance paintings of gods. I can see why girls swarmed of them, of having tasting them and how sinful it had been, for they may have the shape of a god's, but were undoubtedly made for anything other than virtue.

Then a thought plagued my mind, one that had never been far from the surface. If he could have any girl he wanted, why me?

Shaking the thought away, my gaze traced the cupid's bow, then went up his nose – strong and fine, a combination I found hardly achievable – and then I finally met his eyes. My breath hitched, caught in my throat, and all I could do was loose myself in those green depths. His pupils were focused elsewhere (I gathered my jaw), so I took my time exploring his irises. They were predominantly green, but rimmed with the greyest blue and close to the pupils the colour transitioned to hazel. I had never seen anything like it.

And it is so beautiful, so uniquely beautiful. Drew's eyes were no match to his.

The thought of Drew woke me from my reverie and I diligently returned to the sketch. Although, I couldn't help to still be completely mesmerized by Jack: his eyelashes being a hue darker than his hair were long enough to cast a faint shadow over his cheekbones and, really, all about him left me in an incomprehensive awe.

Just when I was about to finish his right eye, our gazes locked. It was so intimate, the way we observed each other, bare of anything, our souls simply attentive and not masked with any emotion. I thought that right then he was glancing right through me and I was suddenly afraid of what he might see; I couldn't hold his stare any longer.

"I'm done," I mumbled self-consciously.

"So am I," his tone was far more enthusiastic.

We uncovered our drawings and a bubble of laughter rose up in me. His eyes turned out quite bigger than they were, so large in fact that they didn't fit in the sort of distorted face I drew. His lips were also comically placed, too near of the chin.

I glanced over to his attempt and saw that he fared slightly better, but it, too, looked like a frantic sketch.

"Very well," Mr. Chen once again surprised us, this time sneaking up from behind. "You two grasped the method very well." Then, he turned to the class. "When you're done with your portrait, get a palette of watercolour I have stapled on my desk – one per group – and then with very little water reline your sketch with a colour of your choice. Before it completely dries, take a bit of water – no extra colour! – and drag the line you just made to the inside, that is towards the centre of the face." The teacher paused and then asked. "Understood?"

Agreement was expressed partly with murmured yeses and nods.

"I didn't know I had eyes that big," he joked.

For some reason, it struck a nerve. "You also emphasized my lips."

"I cannot help but focus on them," his words were laced with mirth and flirt, as he stood up to get the palette.

Throwing my hands in exasperation, I followed him. "You're impossible to tolerate."

"You said yes."

Pinning a strand of hair behind my ear, I wondered. "The way you keep saying it, I think you regret that I did."

Frustrated, he knitted his eyebrows together. "I don't know how to make you understand that I don't and..." He pressed his lips together, as if physically forcing himself to hold back the words.

"And...?" I sensed that I wasn't getting more out of him. While getting the material we would need, I told him. "Well, let's just state the facts. I'm a nobody in terms of social standing; you're the lady's man, the guy's best friend and also their enemy. You have what most dream of." I was already making my way back to my seat, gladly noticing that he was following me. "I live in the shadows and you dwell in the spotlight. But you chose me to be your partner in a social gathering known as prom. Can you see how unfathomable that is? How could you possibly know of me? Further, how could you want me?"

His expression had turned more sombre by sentence, until I couldn't read it anymore. "I see." He paused and we both sat down. "Is a dweller of the spotlight perhaps an open book?" His enunciation spelled sarcasm, his expression mocking as he stared right through me. "I can be watched, but am I really seen?"

That silenced me and he didn't utter another word, both left to our own thoughts.

I started with his jawline again, picking a deep blue. For some reason, I hesitated around his eyes, the sketch reminding me again of that intimacy, which still sends shivers down my spine.

Not much before the bell rang, my drawing was complete. And all I've seen since eighteen hours ago is green eyes.


	10. 2-3

I leave my outburst and his reaction to it out, when I tell Emma about yesterday during lunch. We are again in our favourite spot and this time we have chicken sandwiches. One has to applaud our cafeteria for their creative alternatives. Not.

"That's it? You didn't prod?" She questioned in disbelief.

"I didn't know how to," which is true. My outburst had to do with the fact that I simply didn't know how to get an answer out of him, which resulted in a reply that was everything short of a response and left me with even more questions.

"Anyway," my best friend changes the topic. "How about we go to the mall tomorrow after school?"

 _Oh, yeah. Shopping_. Well, I can postpone it as long as I want, it's gonna happen. "Sure. Should I pick you up, then?" It would be ridiculous if we both took our cars; the only reason we come to school separately anyway is because she lives on the other side of town, which is inconvenient in every sense of the word.

"I'll be ready at eight," which is a reasonable time. Classes start at half past and it takes us around twenty minutes to get from her house to school.

Therefore, I nod.

Getting her phone out of the pocket of her denim jacket, she tells me. "I've been pinteresting some dresses that we might like. I think it is better that we already have an idea of what we're looking for." On her screen is a picture of a dark haired model clad in a floor-length red dress. "I think this would suit you."

I peer a little closer, taking in the details. It has a parting slit around the knee area, frilling at the hem. Under the bust sparkle diamonds, which are sprinkled up to the heart-shaped décolleté. It is sleeveless and I wonder how it will stay up all night. Furthermore, it looks expensive, albeit very elegant. I'm not sure how it is supposed to fit me.

"Don't you think that it's a bit over the top?" I hesitate, while Emma seems offended.

"It's the first prom you ever attend and you're going with Jack Lenning, no dress will top that!"

I understand her reasoning, but the dress is still too much for me. "How about some skater dress, you know? Simple but still cute."

She sighs. "I don't understand you sometimes. We're always in the shadows and, now that you've been pulled into the spotlight, why not let yourself shine?"

"I didn't ask for it. I was completely taken by surprise. All I know since yesterday is that everything has changed. But I'm still the same, Ems. I don't want to stand out like that. I, I'm embarrassed enough as it is that everyone is talking behind my back, wondering what in the world Jack sees in me and I don't even know the answer to that myself!" I gasp for air, as the words tumble out of my self-conscious mouth. "I'm so confused, Ems. About everything. My head still thinks of Drew, while my heart has ventured into this crazy realm called Jack and I just don't know where I stand. How could anyone be looking at me? I'd hate to know what they would find, was I ever to be seen."

I'm probably not making much sense at all, mixed up thoughts rushing through my lips like a swift stream.

"I'm sorry, Mar. I didn't know," she pauses to ponder, uneasy. "I guess that as an outsider I just find it hard... No, as myself, I find it hard to understand, but I'll support you and we'll find some answers." Endearment pools into my heart; that's why I love my best friend. She might not get me all the time, but she tries to always be there for me regardless.

Suddenly, Emma perks up. "Alright, tomorrow we will find a cute and _decent_ dress. Should we also make appointment for Gisela's for Friday?"

Used to her spontaneous changes of topic, I retort. "Don't you think they will be full?" Not only that, but anyone that is, well, _anyone_ will want to go there. I try to picture myself on those stools sitting next to Sarah Jenkins, the queen bee with luscious mahogany hair, or Jessica Stone, the socialite with the gorgeous smile, who is very popular with the boys. I fail, I simply cannot see myself in that crowd.

Shrugging, she unfortunately gets my point. "They are the best."

We keep to ourselves for a while. I think of Jack and his mesmerizing eyes. It should be illegal for someone to be so attractive. Today, his irises appeared a bit greyer, the green a slight bit more azure, when we passed by each other in the hall between third and fourth period. He greeted me with a cryptic smile and the tiniest of nods; I just ogled, stunned.

"Would you be really uncomfortable, if I got an appointment?" She asks out of the blue.

"Hm...? No, I guess I wouldn't. Why?" I scrunch up my eyebrows, attempting to hide my unwillingness. For her, I'd even venture in small talk with Fiona Reeves, the mean best friend of Sarah, were I seated next to her at the salon.

Her expression spells secret. "Just let me handle this."

"Hello, beautiful," are his first words of today to me. "Miss me?"

I pretend to think about it, my heart beating erratically, much to my dismay, as I take my seat. "No."

"Oh, you hurt me with your passionate words," he almost purrs in a lazy cockiness.

Squinting at him, I haughtily state. "I would be so lucky to."

Jack's laugh is a mere bark, but his gaze is amused when our eyes meet. Laughter brings out the deep green hue of irises. "I can feel the love, really."

I grab the opportunity to ask him, to get the slimmest of clues. "Is that what you want of me?"

The lightness in his face is put out, but he quickly covers it up with a glint that is neither joyful nor malicious; I cannot place it. "You don't love me already?" He pauses theatrically. "I must really be losing my touch."

Somehow his banter exasperates me. "Can you be serious?"

His features are straight-forward when he wants to know. "Do you want me to give you a truthful answer?"

Searching his face, probing with my gaze, I wonder if that's what I want. The green in his eyes is neither warm nor cold as he stares at me, his lips in a neutral line. Suddenly, I'm afraid; afraid of what he might say, of what he wants and afraid that I will be disappointed. Afraid that he will be disappointed too. I don't want his mouth shaped into distaste or his eyes to turn to steel, therefore the careful part of me urges me to shake my head.

And so I do.

"Settle down," Mr. Chen really has the ability of filling a room with his voice. "I have gone through your works from yesterday. Some of you really have to pick of the pace." His gaze looms slowly over the class, stopping briefly on Fred and Sam, who are known to take life as a laugh. There isn't really a surprise. "While some partially ignored my instructions." It paused on me and anxiety pricks around my brain. _Why did I do wrong? Oh no, the eyes! I have to talk to Mr. Chen, surely he will understand_. While uneasiness stresses me, the teacher keeps talking. "And for today we will repeat the exercise, but instead of focusing on the face, I want you to do the upper body. Keep it interesting."

Hastily, I make my way to the teacher's desk, behind which Mr. Chen stands. I call to him, "Mr. Chen. I couldn't help but see that you meant me when you said that someone partially ignored your instructions... I'm sorry I did, really. I simply was compelled to fill that part in..."

"Ms. Greenwood," he interrupts me rather cheerfully. "Why are you fretting? That decision is in the past. Now, please begin the new task – oh and don't forget to take the work from yesterday."

With a sense of defeat, I do as he says, unwilling to glance at my distorted version of Jack. I peek at the real one, and he holds up two pieces of paper. So he has already all the needed material. Thoughtful and also strange.

"Thanks." My gratitude is perhaps a bit too sharply expressed, as I sit down next to him.

He appears to be curious, but I refuse to elaborate.

"Can I see it?" He is referring to sheet in my hand.

 _Should I_? Embarrassment creeps up my spine. Not even meeting his eyes, I hand him my work.


	11. 2-4

It is with an excruciating migraine that I open my front door. The clock ticks around quarter past eight and I sigh exhaustedly. Four hours. We spent four hours at the mall for a dress and a pair of shoes. I feel a stab of pain in my temples and I wonder when was the last time I ate or drank something... Lunch.

Gee, if I didn't know any better, I'd think Emma is trying to kill me.

One must give her credit for her persistence, though. We have definitely different definitions of what is acceptable and she wouldn't give up until we found a dress that suited both our tastes.

"I'm home," I call into the empty entry hall and as if addressed, my mum comes down the stairs to greet me. Probably, she was waiting for me to come home.

"Welcome home, honey," she gives me a hug and I almost sigh in relief. It's so nice to lay my head on her shoulders. "Do you want to eat something? Mary and I already had dinner, but I saved some for you."

"Thanks, yes," I mumble unable of being more coherent.

We both head to the kitchen and all I'm capable of is sitting numbly by the table, with a glass of water in my hand. She heats up my food, all the while bombarding me with questions.

"So how was shopping?" Her voice is chirpy and I wonder how she is still so full of energy at this time of the day.

"Fine."

"Did you buy a dress?" She doesn't need an answer for that. "Can I see it?"

"Sure." Between my assenting and the opening of the bag are hesitated moments. I pick up the dress by the shoulders, holding it high above me. Somehow, it sparks an ache in my back. Bed, I need a bed.

"Oh," she exclaims excitedly. "How pretty. The colour suits you so well."

Just then the microwave pings. "Thanks," I tell her both for the compliment and for the food she places in front of me.

Slowly, I grab the fork and stab it into the pasta. I feel every muscle in my arm heaving into the ground, as my actions drag themselves out through time. I need a bed.

I swallow as much as I can muster and soon enough I'm full.

"So, who is taking you to prom?" Very tactful, mum.

"Jack," I confide, as I throw away the rest of the food and water the plate and fork, before putting them in the dishwasher.

In her eyes, I see countless questions, questions that I don't want to answer right now. "Good night, mum."

Relief, as my muscles relax against the mattress. I exhale, expelling all the stress and anxiety, but the stabbing against my temples persists. Just when the pain is dimming, an unfamiliar noise intensifies my headache. _What the hell?! What's this?!_

I stand up with dread. _Just who the hell is making this terrible noise? An inconsiderate son of a b*tch!_

Following the source, I find that it is my phone that is ringing. _Oh._

Without my glasses, I can't see the I.D., but it surely doesn't look like letters, so I don't have the number saved. I hesitate before pressing the green button.

"Hello," my voice is hoarse and tired.

"Hello, beautiful," I instantly recognize Jack's voice and like tiny daggers countless questions rush through my mind. I gasp in pain.

"How did you get my number?" I settle for the most reasonable. As much as I try to expel the ache with breathing, the throbbing is stubborn.

A mocking chuckle can be heard through the line, "you have no confidence in my social skills."

"Drew," I conclude, as I plop on to bed again. Oh, the softness enveloping my tired body, almost lulling me to a sweet slumber on spot.

"Well done, Watson," he jests, but I'm too drained to react.

Then, I realise that he must want something, so I ask him.

"You do get straight to the point," he hesitates, joking. Jack does that a lot, doesn't he? "I've been thinking and... do you ... lunch together tomorrow?"

My eyes have closed and behind my lids vivid images of a dream start to play out, a siren's song to rest. Sleep, I need sleep. "Hmm? Sure, why not? I'm exhausted, Jack. Talk to you tomorrow. Bye." I think I click the right button to end the call, as I turn to the other side and unconsciousness welcomes me.

Do you know that moment when you wake up, but you're still not awake?

When you're caught between consciousness and the realm of sleep?

I fully wake up with a sigh, wishing I could doze a couple more hours. As little by little, yesterday forms itself in my mind, it strikes me. _Did I agree with having lunch with Jack?_


	12. 2-5

By the time, I get to school I have already convinced myself that I had hallucinated what happened last night. Lack of sleep can induce delusions such as Jack calling me. Besides, he would never ask me to have lunch with him. It is the high school's unwritten rule that you're only as cool as who you hang out with at lunch. That's why I don't even think of telling Emma.

"Recovered?" She appears energised from the trip to the mall. I seriously think I may have a problem; all that shopping does to me is leave me worse for wear.

"Almost," I concede. "This time was much better than the last."

A sign of relief leaves her body. "I'm glad. I'm sorry, I know you hate the mall." Clearly, my issue. Then, her smile widens in pride. "Guess who got appointments for Gisela's?"

 _What?!_ "You didn't!" Saying that I am surprised is an understatement. "How?"

Even more satisfaction for her accomplishment graces her features, as she tells me. "Well, let's just say I have Vitamin C."

I pretend to know what she means.

"We are scheduled for five, this time I'll take my car."

"Alright," I consent, all the while wondering how she managed to arrange it after our draining outing to the mall.

We decide to buy sandwiches again, though today's is really unappetising – turkey and mayonnaise. No salad this time.

Countless pointed stares prickle my skin, as we make our way to the counter. Less people are glancing my way.

My relief is short-lived, as of a sudden Jack approaches me. "Forgot we have a date?" He assumes from my clueless expression.

Then, it hits me. I turn to the only reaction I know when it comes to him: sassiness. "Forgot? I rather hoped."

His laugh rings short and he trains his gaze on Emma. "Do you mind if I steal her for today?"

"It's okay," she smiles at him. "Have fun." She dismissively nods at us, while her eyes track mine, questioning and demanding.

 _I will, I promise_.

Satisfied, she leaves us and I instantly feel sorry.

"You really forgot?" He wanted to know.

Sheepishly, I confess. "I was really tired yesterday, I thought I had dreamt it or something."

He draws a mocking smile. "So now you dream of me? I might not be so rusty after all."

Sighing, I question him with a slight accusatory undertone. "Really, Jack? That's all you think about?"

Grabbing my elbow and urging me in the direction of the food, he whispers in my ear. "When it comes to you, that's all that goes through my mind."

Blushing, I feel tempted to punch his arm. "You're incorrigible."

"Your vocabulary is extensive," he jests. To my critical look, he simply tells me. "I thought we were pointing out the obvious."

By now, we are already in front of the counter and he grabs two trays.

"What do you want to eat?" He asks me.

"Oh, I didn't even check the menu," I declare.

"Well, we have meatball pasta and some dubious looking potato mash that should go with fish."

I pretend to think. "The way you put it doesn't give me much choice. Pasta, then."

Taking two plates from the serving lady, we continue slowly down the line.

"Beverage?"

"Water."

We reach the cashier and I fumble with my backpack. Before I'm able to get the money out, he has already paid.

I don't even think of teasing him, so surprised I am that he literally got food for me. With the trays in our hands, we look for a place to sit. More like he is choosing a table for us and I am following him. _Is this really happening?_

Some of his friends wave at him, calling him to join them, but he just shakes his head. I notice that Drew isn't part of the waving, but is smiling at us, genuinely happy. Somehow that puts me off track, my heart hesitating. His grins are always so expressive and true; he truly is full of joy. But I wonder why.

I glance briefly at my present company and let him lead me to an empty table.

"Jack," I start, not really knowing what I want to say, as we sit down. Then, I blurt out the last thing I thought I would. "Why did you ask me to prom?"

Sighing, he states. "You do get straight to the point." He lets out a small chuckle, pondering about it. "You don't even let a guy woo you with his gentlemanly behaviour and ease his way to the nature of our relationship."

Stifling a laugh, I tell him. "Quite a way to put it. Who knew the star quarterback could say more than a chaotic assortment of letters and numbers?"

He shrugs. "In my defence and of the whole sport's, it's not a chaotic assortment, but defined codes."

"Sure," I half-heartedly joke.

The green of his irises is earnest, the grey dimming at the rims, when he tells me. "I just want to get to know you. Take you on dates. Call you my girlfriend."

I am astonished to say the least, there is a huge blank where my thoughts should be. "Jack."

"Give me a chance," he pleads, his gaze intensive. His body language expresses tension; he is eager to know my answer.

His tousled dirty blond hair is carefully swept away from his face, lips of an unnatural definition and promising, as well. There is a wit when we tease each other that I grew to love in the last couple of weeks. I wonder if I'm ready. Not even a heartbeat ago, my chest was heaving due to Drew. Always due to Drew.

I've never known any other, never had eyes for any other. I don't know how to look at any other.

But all I know is that I want to get to know him.

"I said yes, didn't I?" I remind him, in a way of a reply.

A smile lights up his face, a stretch so delighted that something in me feels warm. It tempts me to grin back, a first real one since Drew's confession.

"You did, you did," he repeats in wonder, still not losing the beam. "I'm so happy you did. I can't wait, I just...," he clears his throat in attempt to calm down. "Well, let's play twenty questions. You begin."

"We should probably eat," I voice out, but truth be told I am already thinking about what I want to know. Preparing my first bite, I ask of him. "Tell me about your family."

"That's not a question," he chuckles, the fork half-way to his mouth. "You're not very good at this, are you?"

I snort, "I thought the purpose of the game is to get to know another."

After swallowing, he questions, amused. "So to hell the rules?"

As a response, I just shrug.

"All right," a chuckle reverberates with his words. "My mum's a writer and dad owns the hardware store. I have an older brother, who is in his last year of college. And there's Lucky, our crazy Labrador."

It is with ease that he tells me about them, tenderness evident in his words. It is unusual to share so carefree the feelings for one's family. Especially if they're feelings of love.

"What about yours?"

"There's just Mum, Marie and me. Mum's an artist and Marie is now eight."

Pressing his lips together, he seems brooding. "What about your dad?"

"He's dead," my words come out without a trace of emotion. He wasn't around much, so I don't remember him well. How can you grieve for someone you hardly know?

With awkwardness, he tells me. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," it really is.

He clears his throat. "What about your grandparents?"

Cocking my eyebrow up, I tease him. "I thought the whole twenty questions thing meant that you ask each other _in turn_. That's your third question in a row."

His chuckle is short. "You're the one that ignored the rules in the first place."

"So that gives you permission to do as well?" I attempt to look sceptical.

"Well, it wouldn't be fair if you were allowed to break them and I weren't," is his serious reply.

With a cynical smile, I ask him. "Who told you, life is fair?"

This time he really laughs. "You're something, Mara. You really are."

I don't know if it's meant as a compliment or not, but I can't make myself ask him.

We eat a while in silence, my eyes glued to my plate. Sincerely, I have little appetite.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"Well, that's because it's your turn to answer." I tell him. "Honest opinion on football?"

He is amused. "This might seem shocking, but I really like it. The teamwork, the physicality of it. The harder you work the better you get at it and it's so fulfilling."

Wonder pools into me. He is so honest with himself, so open about what he thinks and feels. It makes him even more endearing. _Wait, endearing_?

When did it begin? When have I started to think of him that way?

As I look into his green eyes, the colour of the pastures and treetops, of natural life brewing and growing, of secrets of a deep forest whirling, I am again aware that everything has changed.


	13. 2-6

Never in a millions years would I have guessed that I'd be now sitting next to Jessica Stone at the popular Gisela's. And that I'd not be dreading any minute of it.

Truly, she is much nicer than I previously gave her credit for and I am actually enjoying myself.

Unfortunately, Emma sits quite far away from me, but we check upon each other through our reflections from time to time. As far as I can tell, she is also having a good time, chatting up to the hairdresser like a close friend. I wonder if they know each other.

A change in the mirror in front of me shakes me from my thoughts, as the staff member I was assigned to comes up behind me. She had previously introduced herself as Petra and offered me something to drink. Unused to salons' MOs, I mumbled a confused "water".

"So, sweetie," she asks, "what do you want to do?"

I stare at her at a complete loss; all tips and ideas Emma had thrown at me before we entered the salon flew out of my mind. Probably eagerly, too.

Sensing my unease, Petra questions. "So what is your dress like? What colour is it?"

I try my best to describe my outfit for prom, as she nods encouragingly every once in a while. After assessing my face and hair, the helpful hairdresser drops some suggestions and we soon find common ground.

"Okay," she exclaims enthusiastically, "let's make you pretty for tonight!"

My eyes trail my reflection, a sense of wonder and disbelief at how nice I look tracing every line. With unstable hands, I smooth out the perfectly flat dress that flares out to just about my knees. I am beyond nervous.

Will Jack like it? Holding in the temptation to touch my hair and thereby ruining the hair-do, I take one last look at the job that Petra has done. The top half of it has been artfully put back, some loose strands framing my made up face while the rest falls down my back perfectly curled, resembling an ebony waterfall.

I still wonder how Petra was able to completely match the lipstick colour to my dress, they're the exact same shade of dark red. But it wasn't the only miracle she did on me. For the first time since I can remember, I feel beautiful.

Faintly, the sound of a car pulling up reaches my ears and the pit of my stomach flares up in anxiety. Soon, the doorbell will sound and so it did.

He is here.

Doing an unnecessary, but very needed once over, I grab my clutch and head to the staircase. Slowly, I descend, my nervousness increasing step by step. As I go around the corner, I see him, Jack in black and white tuxedo, the only speck of colour being his deep red tie and I briefly wonder how he could've known.

Any thought, however, slips off my mind as soon as he looks at me and beams ever so blindingly. Suddenly, all my fears dissipate, a sense of calm rooted on his smile.

I'm not even aware of going down the last stairs, at once I just find myself in front of him, a shy smile curling the corners of my lips up.

"You're beautiful," he breathes out, not a moment too soon. Then he falls silent, his gaze deeply and shamelessly concentrated on me. The intensity of his green eyes almost steal my breath and I find myself checking him out as well.

His hair seems more kept that usual, a shiny coat of wax keeping the normally wild strands away from his face. A note of whatever it is that men usual wear reaches my nose, surprisingly musky but sweet. It kind of suits him.

My eyes trail further down, trying to imprint the sight of him in a tux, because it is one to be behold. The crisp lines of the outfit simply underline his manliness, but also bring forth the boyishness about him.

After my assessment, I look up to meet his gaze and find that his eyes are shining in a way I haven't seen before. I wonder what he is thinking.

Suddenly, my mother's voice burst our bubble. "Let me take a picture of you two."

We both turn to her and the camera she has been holding up goes down. Almost teary-eyed, she smiles at us. "You look lovely, both of you."

Jack's hand settles on the small of my back and a heat spreads through my torso. I'm painstakingly aware of his hold on me, his body pressing to my left side, his warmth sweeping into me.

I find myself catching my breath.

"Alright," my mother says. "Time to go, don't want you to be late." I'm not even aware that she'd already taken pictures and knowing my mum, she took a lot.

His chuckle reverberates through me. "It's alright, Mrs. Greenwood."

"I told you it's Eliza," my mum grins back. I startle at that, but am unable to say anything because just then a little voice cries my name.

"Mara!" Marie is running towards me and instinctively I pick her up.

"Hey, kiddo," I smile at her. "So how do I look?"

"Pretty," she utters, completely amazed about my appearance.

"Oh, thank you," I put her down and as soon as her feet reach the floor, my mum is standing in front of me, opening her arms to embrace me.

"You look beautiful, darling," she whispers into my ear. Letting me go, she says "Now, go."

Jack and I bid goodbye and soon we're out the door. To my surprise, there is a limousine parked in front of my house. My jaw drops and I turn to him.

"Surprise?" Jack tells me sheepishly. "I thought you would like to have the whole experience, considering this is your first prom."

"How do you know about that?"

He looks astonished as he retorts. "I've never seen at a dance, so…"

Cocking my eyebrow up, I ask him. "You've noticed that?"

Shrugging non-committedly, he takes my hand and leads me to the limousine. Opening the door, he takes something out of the vehicle. "Your corsage."

It is a white rose. Not red, but white, smelling sweet. He opens the box wherein it lies and takes it out, slipping it on my wrist. His touch again causes a frenzy in my stomach, the skin burning where his fingers have caressed me.

"Thank you," I utter and then, remembering all the effort he has done, I add, "For everything."

A different kind of smile graces his lips, one holding some type of message I still can't decipher. "You're welcome."

Mentioning me to enter the limousine, he says. "Now, let's have some fun."

I'm not sure how to sum up this night. As I stare at the same old ceiling, a rush of emotions overcome me, each stronger than the former.

All I truly know is that everything has changed.


	14. PART THREE

**RED**

In which she loses him.


	15. 3-1

Losing him is blue like I'd never known, a vastness so empty I forget all feeling. A calm lake, devoid of all motion. It is a weight so heavy I can't get rid of.

I miss him. More than I thought anyone could.

As I lie in bed, I shut my eyes to escape reality. As soon as I do, all I see is him. Blinding sun playing with his golden hair, he is grinning so hard his eyes are closed.

A shock of pain propels me up, just in time to see my roommate come in.

"Hey," Angie greets me with a small smile. She has been the one keeping me afoot during the last month and for that I'm more than grateful. I don't know what would've happened, if she hadn't been here.

All I can do is stare at her, still troubled by the flashback that invaded my mind. Then, slowly, I'm able to think again. "Hi. How was class?"

"Good." She replies, as she puts her bag down in her bed. Then she approaches me, a line of worry between her brows. "How are you?"

"Fine," seems to be only answer to that question. It's so overused that it has no meaning anymore.

Her smile tells me she sees through it. Funny how I've gotten so much better at reading smiles ever since… Just the thought of his name grips at my heart.

Angie sits by me, and after some hesitation, she asks me. "There's this thing at the college bar tonight, do you wanna come?"

If I'm being honest, I stopped wanting since that day. It is as if I'm amidst a heavy haze; everything lost its taste. And all because… I shake my head. I've already relived that last fight in my conscious too many times.

But I know I cannot go on this way, cocooning myself from the outside. And maybe, just maybe, something tonight would make me feel… alive. Hence, I tell her. "Yes. Let's."

I know I surprised her, I sure have surprised myself. "Okay," she enunciates, confusedly dragging the vowels. Clearing her throat, Angie gives me the details for tonight. "So it starts around seven, I think it's some event from Alpha Gamma. So it's gonna be fun." I nod. The sorority is notorious for their parties and for having the hottest guys in it. Not that I can confirm, I have only eyes for…

It's general knowledge, though, that the Alpha Gammas are, and I quote, "Greek gods". Original, I know.

"Ella and Janice are also planning on coming. We thought to meet up at theirs to get ready and then we go directly to the bar."

Makes sense; they live the closest to the party mile. A brief glance at myself tells me I absolutely need to shower before we go. And there's also the outfit to think about… Do I need to wash my hair? I take a strand in my hand and drag it to my nose. Maybe I should.

Angie is already up and about, taking her books out of her bag and sorting them back to the only bookshelf we have.

"What time is it?" I ask her, at the same time searching for the clock, which hangs by the door.

"It's quarter to five," she answers, even though I already have figured it out.

"What time you agreed to be at Ella's and Janice's?" I'm already on my feet, gathering my towel and toiletries. As an afterthought, I also take the razor. I might as well shave.

"Around six, that way we can do our makeup there and stuff."

That gives me forty minutes to shower, get dressed and choose an outfit… It could be worse.

Having planned out my next actions, I turn to Angie. "Okay, so I'm gonna shower real fast, then we can choose outfits. I'll be right back."

I end up in a different get up than the one I originally planned to go in. I initially chose a nice pair of jeans and a decently cleavage-d top, but my friends weren't as impressed as I. I don't remember whose piece it is that I'm currently wearing, but it was suddenly thrown at me and everyone ordered me to wear it.

So here I am, in a little black dress and my face slightly touched up, ready to go. And feeling sick to my stomach. Regret is consuming me. I just wish I could go back to my dorm and curl up in bed, crying dried up tears and thinking of him. Always him.

Swallowing the whimper down, I order myself to get my shit together. I am going to have fun tonight and I won't think about him. That much.

Who was I kidding, Jack took over any thought I had. And it hurt. So much. To know I had him and lost him because I was too stupid to tell him... Enough, Mara. Suck it up.

So I do. Exhaling rather loudly, I join the others outside. I've just gotten back to get my phone.

"Found it!" I tell them when I'm close enough.

"Finally, let's go," Janice is very impatient but it doesn't bother us. We're all eager to go the event that's been going for about an hour now. We miscalculated the time to get ready by a lot, but it was worth it. We all look very nice. I mean, Ella looks plain hot with her black mini skirt and V-neck top combo, but Janice is not far behind. Her fiery red hair is the only thing covering her back, since her top only offers coverage (although not much of it) in the front. The form-fitting jeans are meant to turn it down a notch, but with her shape nothing really can.

Angie is more understatedly sexy, in a flowy dress that reaches her knees and completely matches her mocha complexion.

I sense we are going to make quite an entrance, considering we're about an hour late and most of those attending are already there.

As we're walking to the bar, a buzzing feeling bubble through my body. A sense of anticipation creeps up; something will happen. I can already hear the music and we still haven't turned into the street, the booming bass adding to the bubbling feeling in my chest.

We enter the college bar to find it full to the brim. Laughter, the loud music and the tings of many toasts tickle my skin, adding to the excitement I'm feeling.

Bee-lining directly to the bar, Janice orders a tequila shot for each of us. Once we all have salt and the lemon slice on the one hand and the shot in the other, Angie exclaims:

"To Mara, who finally joined us."

I laugh at that, but correct her: "To us and to a good time tonight."

After the mandatory clinking, we each lick the salt, down the drink and bite into the lemon. The grimaces that follow the expected burn down the throat make us all laugh.

Suddenly, the song changes, the bass compelling even the shier dancers to the dancefloor. Janice grabs Ella, who in turn holds on to Angie and the latter pulls me into the chain, the former leading us into the centre of the moving bodies.

Once there I simply let myself go. The loud beat seeps into my skin while the bass sways my hips into motion. We have formed a circle and a smile graces my lips, when I notice my friends yelling the lyrics to a song I don't know the name of. I'm happy to simply swing along and close my eyes. I feel the liberation of simply moving to the melody. A feeling of rightness grips my soul and then, suddenly, I'm transported back to that fateful high school dance all those years ago.


End file.
